WHEN shines the star, by thee loved best,

Upon these soft delicious eves, Lighting the ring-dove to her nest,

Where trembling stir the darkling leaves; When flings the wave its crest of foam Above the shadowy-mantled seas, A softness o'er my heart doth come, Linking thy memory with these;

TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND.

For if, amid those orbs that roll,

Thou hast at times a thought of me, For every one that stirs thy soul

A thousand stir my own of thee.

Even now thy dear remembered eyes,
Filled up with floods of radiant light,
Seem bending from the twilight skies,
Outshining all the stars of night:

And thy young face divinely fair,

Like a bright cloud, seems melting through, While low sweet whispers fill the air,

Making my own lips whisper too;

For never does the soft south wind
Steal o'er the hushed and lonely sea,
But it awakens in my mind

A thousand memories of thee.

Oh! could I, while these hours of dreams
Are gathering o'er the silent hills,
While every breeze a minstrel seems
And every leaf a heart that thrills,

Steal all unseen to some hushed place,
And, kneeling 'neath those burning orbs,

For ever gaze on thy sweet face

Till seeing every sense absorbs,

189

190

TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND.

And, singling out each blessed even
The star that earliest lights the sea,
Forget another shines in heaven

While shines the one beloved by thee.

Lost one! companion of the blest
Thou, who in purer air dost dwell,
Ere froze the life-drops in thy breast,
Or fled thy soul its mystic cell,
We passed on earth such hours of bliss

As none but kindred hearts can know,
And, happy in a world like this,

But dreamed of that to which we go,
Till thou wert called in thy young years
To wander o'er that shoreless sea,
Where, like a mist, time disappears,
Melting into eternity.

I'm thinking of some sunny hours,
That shone out goldenly in June,

When birds were singing 'mong the flowers
With wild sweet voices all in tune,

When o'er thy locks of paly gold

Flowed thy transparent veil away,

Till 'neath each snow-white trembling fold

The Eden of thy bosom lay;

How modestly thy glance lay hid

From the fond glances bent on thee.

'here are some hours that pass so soon,

Our spell-touched hearts scarce know they end; nd so it was with that sweet June,

Ere thou wert lost, my gentle friend!

h! how I'll watch each flower that closes
Through autumn's soft and breezy reign,
'ill summer-blooms restore the roses,
And merry June shall come again!
ut, ah! while float its sunny hours
O'er fragrant shore and trembling sea,
[issing thy face among the flowers,

How my full heart will mourn for thee!

CHRISTMAS.

BY WILLIAM CROSWELL.

"The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious."-ISAIAH.

THE thickly woven boughs they wreathe
Through every hallowed fane,

A soft reviving odour breathe

Of summer's gentle reign;

And rich the ray of mild green light
Which, like an emerald's glow,

Comes struggling through the latticed height,
Upon the crowds below.

Oh let the streams of solemn thought,

Which in those temples rise,

From deeper sources spring than aught

Dependant on the skies.

Then though the summer's glow departs,

And winter's withering chill

Rests on the cheerless woods, our hearts

Shall be unchanging still.